Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Aria
After a very long, very heated internal debate, she decided to go down for dinner that night.
She’d come to the conclusion when Killian had left her bedroom after finger-fucking her to one of the best orgasms of her life that the last thing she needed was to be locked in a room with him again. It was just too dangerous.
Since her closet seemed to be magically filling itself with clothes that fit her damn near perfectly, she was even able to dress for the occasion.
She’d tracked down Reagan earlier that afternoon to find out what the dress code was.
It had been a pleasant surprise to learn that the O’Rourkes were pretty laid back about their Sunday dinners.
Based on the books she couldn’t stop reading no matter how she tried to avoid them, she’d been expecting a black-tie affair.
But Reagan had just rolled her eyes and told her she could show up in a potato sack for all anyone cared, so here she was, dressed in a pair of surprisingly stretchy jeans that helped ease the discomfort of her bloated stomach and a cute, flowing top in a bright forest green.
She told herself it was just a coincidence that the top matched Killian’s eyes almost exactly.
“Well, don’t you look fucking adorable.”
Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, she struck a pose for Reagan. “Thanks. It’s actually kind of nice to put on some cute clothes instead of pajamas.”
“To be fair, the pajamas are equally adorable.” Taking Aria’s hand, Reagan twirled her in place and heaved a dramatic sigh. “It really is too bad my brother scooped you up first. We could have had some fun together.”
Feeling bold, Aria stepped closer, letting her head fall back as a smile curved her lips. “We still could. Who needs men, anyway?”
Hunger flashed in Reagan’s dark eyes a moment before a hand fisted in Aria’s hair, tugging her head back with a bite of pain her body momentarily confused with pleasure.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Aria,” Reagan murmured.
“My brother doesn’t share, and this little act you’re putting on is more likely to end with you sitting gingerly at dinner than getting whatever it is you’re after. ”
“Who says I’m after something?”
“You’re right. My apologies for making assumptions.” The hand in her hair tightened, forcing her to bend back as Reagan dipped her head, her breath hot on Aria’s neck. “Maybe you just find me irresistible. Should I kiss you, then, and see if I can make you forget all about my brother?”
For the briefest of moments, she was tempted. She’d never been with a woman, but then again, she’d never really been with anyone but Killian. And fuck her if Reagan wasn’t every bit as potent as her brother.
“Well, isn’t this a cozy sight.”
At the sound of Killian’s voice, she tried to jerk away, but Reagan held her firmly in her grasp. “Evening, brother.”
“Reagan. I suggest you remove your hands from what’s mine before I remove them for you.”
Despite the danger vibrating in every syllable of her brother’s words, Reagan simply grinned. “Told you he wasn’t going to like this.”
Reagan released her and stepped back, her hands going up in the time-honored symbol of surrender. “She’s all yours, Kill.”
Taking Aria’s hand, Killian pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her waist and holding tight no matter how she struggled to escape. “Let the others know we’ll be a little late to dinner.”
A knowing grin spread across Reagan’s face. “Take all the time you need.”
Before Aria could even form an argument, she was whisked away to Killian’s office. “What the fuck do you think you’re—”
The rest of her question dissipated on a rush of air when he spun her, pressing her up against his office door, her hands pinned above her in one hand while his free fingers went to work on the button of her jeans.
“Was I at all un-fucking-clear this morning, Aria?”
Fear and need slammed into her, sending her heart pounding against her ribcage. “I-I don’t know what you mean.”
And then his fingers were inside her, spearing her and stretching her, pleasure she hadn’t been expecting flooding her system as he worked her furiously toward an orgasm. “When I told you that while you are under my roof your pleasure belongs to me and only me. Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough.”
The heel of his hand ground against her clit, shocking a cry from her.
“Nobody, not even my sister, puts a fucking hand on you. And if I ever catch you flirting with someone else, I will make you watch while I break every bone in the hand that touched you before I take my belt to your ass. Am I making myself crystal-fucking-clear now, Aria Grace?”
Head spinning, she fought to think, to focus on the horrific picture he was painting rather than the pleasure he was forcing on her. “You can’t… I wasn’t…”
“You were, and I can. Because you belong to me, princess. Now be a good girl and tell me you understand.”
Good girl. Those words reached down inside her, awakening something in her that only he had ever roused before. But she couldn’t give him that. Couldn’t let him have that kind of control over her, not again. Not knowing everything she knew about what kind of man he was. “You don’t own me.”
“Oh, but I do. Say it, Aria. Say ‘Yes, Daddy’ and I’ll let you come. Otherwise you can sit through dinner with a wet, needy little pussy and I’ll send you to bed in the same state.”
“I can take care of my own orgasms.”
“Not if I cuff your wrists to the bed.”
All it took was one look in his eyes to know how absurdly serious he was. And yet, she still couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
“Ah, my stubborn little princess,” he murmured against her lips. “Let me make you feel good. All I need is two little words. Is that really too much for you to give?”
It wasn’t just two words. What he wanted was an admission that she belonged to him, that he had the right to dictate what she did with her own body.
So even though she felt like she might actually die from the need welling inside her, she gathered what strength she had left and met his gaze. “Fuck you.”
She felt as much as heard his sigh before his fingers went still inside her. “Have it your way, then.”
Tears of frustration burned at the backs of her eyes as he pulled his hand away, lifting his fingers to his lips to suck her juices from his skin, all while maintaining that soul-shattering eye contact.
“We’ll revisit this conversation after dinner. And if you’re a good girl, you can be Daddy’s dessert.”
Releasing his hold on her wrists, he fixed her jeans for her and tugged her shirt back into place before flashing her a bright smile and offering his arm like he was some kind of rake escorting a debutante to the ball. “Shall we?”
Ignoring his arm, she stepped around him, nose tilted in the air and headed for the dining room.
Maybe she would take him up on his offer to teach her how to stab people. And then she’d hold that knife to his throat and force him to get her off one final time before she sank the blade into his chest.
Killian
If looks could kill, as the saying went, he’d be bleeding out right on his dining room floor.
And judging by the sly grins Reagan and Lochlan kept sending each other, his princess’s murderous rage hadn’t gone unnoticed.
Fucking adorable.
Seated at the head of the long rectangular table, he sipped at the wine Brody had brought up from the cellar.
His cousin, the only redhead of the family, sat to Killian’s right, a carefully crafted expression of boredom on his face.
In reality, Killian knew, he was categorizing every movement, every tone shift, every expression of the people around the table.
Even with family, he never let his guard down.
To his left was Aria, openly sulking and trying to murder him with her eyes, much to his continued amusement.
Beside her sat Rowan’s latest conquest, the quiet, lovely Clara, her head bowed so she didn’t have to look anyone in the eye as she picked at her shepherd’s pie.
Every now and then she would glance up, a shy smile curving her lips at some quip from Reagan or bawdy joke from Lochlan.
She really was a sweet little thing. Too sweet for the likes of Rowan, in Killian’s opinion.
His cousin’s son might have been family, but he was absolutely useless.
Murphy didn’t seem to mind his son living off him halfway into his twenties, and while Killian understood his cousin’s inclinations to give his son the safe, comfortable life he’d never been afforded, he still couldn’t quite come to terms with Rowan’s entitlement.
“So, Aria.” As she had been since they sat down, Reagan once more tried to draw her de facto sister-in-law into conversation. “Are you in school still?”
“I graduated early. With honors. I’m supposed to walk in May, but I suppose that will depend on whether I’m still being held hostage by your brother.”
At her dry words, Brody scowled, but the twins both grinned as if highly amused by her answer. And knowing them, they probably were.
“I’m sure we can make that work,” Killian assured her. “As long as you’re a good girl.”
It was an asshole thing to say, even if all his cousins and his sister were aware of his proclivities. But he couldn’t resist needling her when she was acting like a pouty child who’d been denied a treat.
To his delight, her cheeks went bright pink and her eyes narrowed. “Fuck you.”
“Not in front of the family, darling.”
“Asshole.”
“Guilty as charged.”
Beside Aria, poor Clara’s eyes had gone round as saucers, and she was looking from Aria to Killian with something akin to wonder in her eyes.
Two seats down, Murphy was shaking his head and muttering something Killian couldn’t hear but that had Reagan throwing her head back and laughing, long and loud.
And just like that, the grief he always thought he’d wrestled down into a box deep inside him came welling up, threatening to choke the air right out of him.
His parents, his aunts and uncles, they should all be here for this.
He could see them so clearly, the way his father would try to shake his head disapprovingly, but he’d be hiding a smile the whole time.
The way his Aunt Pat would have laughed right along with Reagan while the twin boys she’d loved so much sat as close to her as they could possibly get.
Brody’s father, Uncle Finn, would have clapped Killian on the shoulder and winked approvingly.
And his mother, god, his mother would have loved Aria. Would have approved wholeheartedly of the hell she was giving him, even if she would have been pushing nonstop for them to get married already.
“Excuse me.”
Plucking his wine from the table, he rose and walked from the room without looking back.
He carried his wine to his office, closing the door behind him before moving to stare out the window that overlooked the front lawn.
He needed a minute, just a minute to put himself back to rights, and if his family knew what was good for them, they would give him that minute.
“Hey. What’s wrong? Why did you leave like that?”
The mother of his child, apparently, did not know what was good for her.
Par for the fucking course.
“Go back to dinner, Aria.”
A soft snick as the door once more shut behind them. “Not until you tell me what that was all about. One minute you’re fine, the next you’re storming out with a weird look on your face.”
“I did not storm out. I excused myself, politely.”
“And then you stormed out.”
“Aria.” He was too tired to fight with her. “Please go.”
“No.”
He wanted to hurt her. To lash out, to make her feel a fraction of the pain and anger churning inside him. The same pain and anger he’d been carrying with him for over a decade.
Swallowing down all the ugly, angry things he wanted to hurl at her, he sipped his wine and watched the darkness as silence stretched between them.
“My parents should be here.” The words slipped out before he even registered the desire to say them, but they were out now and there was no point in pretending they weren’t.
“That’s what happened back there. I was listening to Reagan laugh and it just hit me how unfair it was that none of those who came before us are here to listen to her laugh or to watch you run me ragged. ”
“I’m not running you anywhere.”
“Princess, you’re spinning me in circles.
And they would have been thrilled to see it.
” Turning, he met her dark gaze from across the room.
“My mother would have adored you. She would have already had you at some boutique, trying on wedding dresses, and you would have gone because you wouldn’t have been able to help falling in love with her right back. ”
Even from a distance, he could see the wariness in her eyes. “We aren’t getting married, Killian. Not in this lifetime or any other.”
“See, she would have loved that about you. The way you stick to your guns and don’t let anyone push you around. She was the same way. I miss her, every fucking day.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” Draining his wine, he forced a smile. “We should get back to dinner.”
But when he moved to pass her, she stopped him by simply laying a hand on his arm. “It doesn’t make you weak, you know. Missing them. It just makes you human.”
“Princess, being human is exactly the kind of weakness a man like me can’t afford.”